


Pet Humans

by thesnadger



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: AU where an omen of imminent death basically adopts Stan, Gen, and becomes his therapy animal and BFF, and gets lots of treats because it is a Very Good Dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 12:26:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6566167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesnadger/pseuds/thesnadger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many people have heard that black dogs are harbingers of death. Stan hasn't. And if you call his new best friend a harbinger of anything, he'll knock your teeth out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bonding With Your Human

**Author's Note:**

> From notllorstel's joml au. It'll be two, maybe four chapters.

She walked the paths that she has always walked, over crossroads and potters fields and places of execution. She had been walking for many days, but she was not tired. She has never been tired.

She seeks out death and brings death with her. It is what she has always done. 

Despite what some humans say, she was born from a womb. She did not claw her way out of hell or grow from the body of a murdered criminal. She remembers being a puppy, straining up to lick her mother's face so that she would lie down to offer strange, dark milk from her teat. She remembers wrestling with her brothers and sisters and biting their ears, sleeping together in a warm, dark pile in their den, a hole in the earth as black as pitch.

But that was many years ago. Now, she walked alone. She found the lost and the tired, those who had the scent of death on them.

She stopped when she saw the house. It was like many houses humans had, tall and square and filled with smells, but none so potent as the scent which drew her here. The man she was looking for was inside. His scent was everywhere, and so many deaths were seeking him. Deaths at the hands of men with ropes and knives. Deaths from the creatures that watched his house from deep in the forest, with eyes that saw almost as far as the Grim's nose could smell. From mishaps with the strange machine that sat under the house, filling the grounds with a silent, patient vibration. From the knot of despair inside him. Fast, painful deaths and slow quiet ones, she scented them all.

She prowled around the house. Kept her vigil. It is what she had always done. When the time came, she would bring his death to him.

Every now and then the man came out into the yard to do the things that humans do around their houses. Sometimes, other humans arrived and the human would greet them with loud yelling and sweeping gestures of his arms. His voice was always happy when the other humans came, but his scent rarely was. When they left, he walked as if he was very tired.

Sometimes he came outside when there were no other humans at all and prowled around the perimeter of the house. He checked everywhere, but never marked his territory. This was not unusual—humans almost never seemed to do that. (The Grim believed this meant humans did not realize there were creatures in this world bigger and stronger than them. Not until they felt their teeth, anyway.) Sometimes he came out with a bag on his back and something tucked under his arm, and wandered through the woods for hours. Digging holes without burying anything and checking around trees and under rocks. Never coming back with anything.

Now and then he spotted the Grim and stared. The Grim stared back.

One evening, the door opened and he began walking to her. He approached carefully, as if worried she might run away. As if she would ever have reason to run from a human. He had a plate in his hand, with new, wonderful smells coming off of it.

The Grim watched to see what he would do. Humans didn't try to approach her. The ones who could see her usually fled, stinking of fear. But to her surprise, this one knelt down in the grass and set the plate in front of her.

“Here, fellah. You must be pretty hungry to scavenge around here,” he said. “Know that feeling.”

She sniffed. His words were strange, but she understood that the wonderful smells were for her. An offering? Humans had left her offerings many hundreds of years ago, hoping that she would leave if she was fed. (She didn't. That was not how this arrangement worked.) But they never came close to her. They placed food in consecrated places and ran before she came too close. She rarely ate what they left behind. She hadn't needed food since she drank the dark milk from her mother.

But whatever was on this plate smelled very good. Perhaps just a taste.

Almost before she knew it, her snout was buried in the warm, pungent meat on the plate. Jaws eagerly snapping up the morsels, tongue lapping away at the sweet red drippings that pooled below it. She was so busy eating she hardly noticed the man's hand slowly reaching for her head. She only realized what was happening when she felt his fingers gently brush her fur. Her head snapped up, startled and alert.

The man pulled back. “Sorry. Shouldn't pet a dog while it's eating, right? Should've known better than that.” He smiled weakly at her.

This was very strange. He was giving her food, but she didn't think it was meant to make her leave. It seemed more like he wanted her to stay.

The ones who gave her offerings of food before never spoke to her, never dared to try and touch her. Their food was tainted by their fear. It didn't taste of warm kitchens and old iron pans crusted over with the grease of a hundred other meals like this man's food did. They never radiated the warm, gentle feeling that came from this man, either. She licked her jowls. Maybe if she came closer, he would try to touch her again.

She stepped over the empty plate and pressed her face into his front, sniffing. To her surprise, a loud bubble of laughter burst out of him. She had never heard a human laugh this close before, and something about it made her wag. It sounded the way running felt.

“You're pretty friendly.” he said, and a moment later she felt his fingers running through her fur, his hand stroking the side of her head and it felt _so_ nice. She found herself rubbing against him as he pet down her back.

“Ha!” he said, “You look mean, but you're just a big softie, arencha?”

She didn't know what his words meant, but all she was really interested in was the joy in his laugh and the feeling of his hands in her fur. She wondered how she had gone so long without knowing that humans could instinctively find all the best spots for scratching. No wonder they controlled so much of the earth.

After a while she pulled back and shook herself out, overstimulated by all the scratching and petting from his warm, friendly hands. The man sighed and picked the plate off the ground.

“I should go back in. Got some work to do before dawn...you keep warm out here, okay pooch?”

The Grim sat and watched him leave, back into his big square house. Maybe if she waited he would come out again. She started keeping her vigil a little closer to the door.

A few nights later she found the man standing on the porch behind the house. She approached, and he turned and saw her.

“Back again? Looking for more handouts?” he asked. She felt her tail thumping against the ground at the sound of his voice. “Well, c'mon inside. I can't be bringing something out to you all the time. This isn't a restaurant, y'know. Besides, it's too cold for you to be sleeping out here at night.”

He turned back into his house as if he was leaving. But instead of walking inside he stood in the doorframe, holding the door open and looking at her expectantly. She realized that he wanted her to follow him.

Inside the house he gave her another plate of good smells and tastes, and there was more petting. This time she enjoyed it so much that she even rolled over and let him rub the soft, gray fur on her belly. He scratched her ears and said more silly words. Then he did something truly amazing. He took off his shoes and pulled off two wonderfully smelly socks. He tied one around the other and did something with his hands that the Grim couldn't quite follow. When he was done, he'd made a thing that was knotted at one end and dangly at the other, and the Grim knew she had to have it.

The man swung the smelly toy back and forth in front of her and she leaped forwards, catching the knotted end in her jaws. She pulled hard, but the man held the other end firmly. She pulled at the sock toy again and again, growling and wagging her tail. The man pulled to the left and to the right, and when the Grim finally and triumphantly yanked it out of his hands, he scratched and petted her head and called her a Good Dog which made her feel like she was running across the sky.

She was so excited she jumped on him and tugged on the loose ends of his clothing with her powerful jaws, pulling him forward like she had with the toy. It made him laugh some more, and she sensed something heavy and sad inside of him growing just a little bit lighter. It was strange...she saw darkness inside him, darkness heavy enough to draw death close. But there was still so much happiness when he laughed.

When she wouldn't stop tugging at his clothes he grabbed at her head with both his hands and tried to throw her to the ground. Wrestling with her like her littermates used to so many years ago. It was so much _fun_ that she wondered why she had ever stopped playing, why she had ever left her littermates and gone to roam the crossroads. They rolled on the floor together and he laughed and she yelped and she felt huge and bright, wriggling with pleasure at the flow of warmth and happiness between them.

The Grim could have kept playing forever, but after a while the human started to get tired and began panting, so she settled down to allow him to rest. He got up and sat in a big, soft chair in front of a box that flickered with cool light. The Grim curled up on the floor next to him, and he reached a hand down to scratch her head. She decided then and there that this human was the best human she had ever encountered.

Eventually his fingers stopped moving through her fur, his head started to droop, and sleeping human noises came out of him. The Grim hadn't slept in a very long time. It held very little interest to her now. But seeing this human sleep made her want to try it. She rested her head on the ground between her paws, yawned and closed her eyes, trying to feel what she had sensed the human feeling. A comfortable weariness slowly settled over her, and she nested into the soft shag carpet next to her friend.

Friend. It was a word she hadn't had occasion to use very much. Certainly it was never a word she thought she'd use for a human. But it fit him, somehow. It suited him. Friend. He was Friend.

For the first time in centuries, the Grim slept.

* * *

 

The Grim woke up much later, yawning and stretching out on her side. Friend was still sleeping in the big chair beside her, making more soft little human noises.

She decided that she wanted to stay with Friend. She wanted more pets and games of tug of war, and wanted to feel the sadness inside Friend get smaller when she licked his face. Friend was most definitely the best human she had ever met. And he still smelled of the death that was coming for him.

When Friend was dead, he wouldn't make toys or wrestle with her, or feel happy when she nuzzled him. Dead humans didn't do or feel anything. They simply were.

Hmm.

This was certainly a problem. But, she decided, not an unfixable one. If she could draw death towards a human, it stood to reason she could draw it away from one.

She licked Friend's hand a few times to say goodbye, and to let him know she'd be returning. Then she trotted out the door. She had a lot of work to do...there were many potential deaths hanging over Friend, and she would have to draw all of them away before she could return. The idea of doing something so new excited her. Just a few hours ago, she had tried Sleep again, and Play, and now she was going to try a completely new thing, all because of Friend.

She wondered what other new things Friend would show her.


	2. Exercising Your Human

From then on, the Grim spent a lot of time with Friend. She couldn't always be there, of course. She had important work to do. Sometimes it was nearby, even in town. (For a solid week she had sat howling outside the Mayor's home, while he shook his cane and shouted “Not yet, Reaper!” at her.) More often, though, she had to walk many miles and was gone for several days. Friend got used to seeing her come and go. He was always ready to welcome her when she returned.

One day, when she was out in a place where the snow was piled deep everywhere, and flakes of it sat on her fur like stars in a night sky, she scented something on the wind that startled her. Death was coming close to Friend again. He needed her help. She turned and began going south at a full run.

It took her a few days to get back to Friend's house, and when she did the sun was low in the sky. She went in through the locked back door and up the stairs to the bedroom, where his scent was the strongest. The lights were out, and he was lying in bed, but he wasn't sleeping. She put her paws up on the side of the bed and sniffed him over. He turned over when he felt her nose pressing into his back and looked at her, reaching a hand out to pet.

“Hey girl.” He muttered, “Where did you come from?”

She sniffed at him seriously. He didn't smell like fever. He smelled like old sweat, and something sharp she couldn't identify...but the strongest smell coming off him was the give-up-and-die smell. That was very, very bad. She pressed her nose under his his hand so he would pet her some more. She licked his face to show him it was okay, she was here now, but he didn't laugh. She tried climbing up in bed next to him, but he didn't move to make room for her.

He needed to get up, she decided. Humans are the most still when they're closest to death. They need to move to stay alive...besides that, his body was making the kinds of smells bodies make when they haven't had food in a while. She sat on the floor beside the bed and barked.

“Shush, girl...no barking right now, okay?” Friend said.

She barked a few more times, unwilling to let him ignore her.

“I said no!” he groaned and put the pillow over his head. “Bad dog!”

 _Bad_ dog? Hmph. She'd forgive him for that. She was clearly being a very Good Dog right now, but he was confused and heartsick so she wouldn't hold the insult against him. She continued her barking. He made a lot more groaning noises and said some other words that sounded angry, but he slowly sat up on the side of the bed, running his hand through his hair.

“All right, all right...you hungry or something?”

She wagged her tail and barked encouragingly.

“I don't think I have much food that isn't spoiled, but we'll look together, huh?”

She stuck close to Friend as he slowly made his way down the stairs into the dark kitchen. He opened the cold food box and poked through the few items inside, occasionally opening something and sniffing it, then dumping the contents in the trash. She didn't touch any food he rejected.

“Mmm.” He sniffed at a package with a few thin slices of meat in it. “Baloney lasts forever, right?”

She barked, praising him for finding food. He set the open package down on the floor.

“There ya go, enjoy.” he said.

He reached back into the fridge and pulled out a plastic bag filled with slices of bread. He took a slice out and started mechanically shoving it in his mouth. He didn't look like he was enjoying it, but she was glad to see him eating. She bent her head down and licked up the little slices of meat.

He ate three pieces of bread from the bag and then sat in the kitchen chair a while, as she licked his fingers and put her paws up on his lap. She nuzzled her face against him and wagged for all she was worth to remind him how much she loved him. After a while, a slow little smile spread over his face, and he smelled a little less like give-up-and-die.

She stayed with him for several days, making sure to climb on his lap or lie at his feet whenever he sat down, and to lick and nuzzle his hand whenever he held it out. She curled up in bed with him at night, but after it had been day for a few hours she barked and pawed at his head to try and get him to play. A lot of times he made angry sounds at her and even called her a Bad Dog again, which bothered her. But she let it go, first because she loved him and second because he would usually get up after making his angry noises. So if it got him to move around and eat more things from the fridge and sometimes play a little she would let him call her Bad Dog every day.

She knew she was really a Good Dog anyway.

Some days he would go down into the basement that smelled like so many strange things, and held that big machine that looked like it was turned off but was always humming with energies that humans couldn't feel. He'd sit in front of the machine and look listlessly through pieces of paper, fiddle with switches and take things apart. He didn't seem to want to do any of this, and it usually ended with him sitting slumped against the wall and crying. But crying was okay. Crying let out a little of the deep, cold sadness he carried. And she could always curl up on him while he wrapped his arms around her and sobbed into her soft, dark fur.

He was getting better. He got out of bed every day and ate at least a little, and cuddled with her a lot, which made the darkness ebb in him a bit. But he was still doing poorly, and there was only so much that she could do alone. Humans need other humans. They need fresh air and exercise, or they get sick in their bodies and their souls. But Friend didn't want to leave the house. How could she get him outside?

Then she had an idea. She remembered a day many months ago when she had gone for a Car Ride with Friend and he'd taken her to a place where he'd gotten her a big bag of food and some wonderful chewy squeaky things, and another thing that she'd sniffed with suspicion when he held it out to her. It was a collar and leash, he'd said. He'd tried to put it on her, but she'd shaken it off, instinctively knowing that collars were not for her. Friend had been persistent—he'd tried to put the collar on her several more times before giving up, frustrated, and she'd had to lick his face to show him that she still loved him even if he was being silly about the collar.

She sniffed around the house until she found the leash and collar, picked them up in her jaws and padded upstairs to where Friend was lying in bed. She dropped them on the floor in front of him and barked.

“What?” Friend asked. “You wanna go for a walk? Seriously?”

She barked.

“I thought you hated that thing.” Friend said.

She barked some more.

“All right, all right...sheesh. You never used to be this

He got out of bed and partly dressed, then fastened the collar around her neck and clipped the leash onto it. They went outside.

Friend blinked blearily when they stepped out into the sunlight. The weather was warm and the breeze was nice and filled with pleasant smells, but Friend still looked uncomfortable. She took him for a walk down a path near the road. Someplace that was quiet and wouldn't overstimulate him.

She decided that even if collars were normally not for her, there were advantages to a collar and leash. With her human holding on tightly to the other end of the leash, she could keep him from getting lost or from sitting down and not moving.

The path wasn't too long, and it was a slow walk. But still, by the time they reached the part of town with other humans in it Friend was tired and cranky. He needed a place to rest. She sniffed the air until she caught the scent of something promising...just a little ways away, there was a building with many wonderful smells coming out of it. Food smells and human smells and some other ones besides. She pulled on the leash and led Friend in that direction.

“No, girl...” Friend whined, tugging at the leash. “We gotta go home, c'mon.” But then some particularly strong food smells blew past them on the wind and his stomach growled insistently. After that, he reluctantly walked with her to the building.

Once they stepped inside, the Grim felt Friend tense up. His spine went stiff and he was glancing around as if they were in danger. The Grim hoped that coming here hadn't been a mistake—was this too much too fast for Friend? She looked up at him and wagged to show him that there was nothing to be afraid of. She was here and she would protect him.

“Well, hey there handsome.” A woman walked up to the two of them. She smelled like coffee, like lots of different food smells and many different cats. (The Grim had seen a cat before. She hadn't been impressed.) “Who's your friend?” She asked.

“Down, girl.” Friend said, which the Grim thought was unnecessary—she'd only been sniffing, not jumping. “Uh, hey Susan. Is it okay if I bring a dog in here?”

“Well, I don't know.” Susan said, putting her hands on her hips. “Is she gonna stiff me on the tip?” She put her head back and laughed for a very long time. Friend laughed a little too, nervously.

“You two go find a seat, I'll be with you in a minute.” Susan said, walking off and taking most of the cat smell with her.

Friend seemed a little calmer after he'd sat down in a booth. Susan returned and the two of them talked a little more while the Grim sat at Friend's feet and kept a look out.

“I hear you've stopped giving tours, Mystery Man.” she said. “What's that all about? Have you got some new secret science gizmos up there that you don't want anyone seeing?”

“What? Oh...no...no.” Friend shifted in his seat and looked away. “I've just been, ah, goin' through some things lately. Y'know. Nothing interesting.”

Susan nodded, “I understand, hun. We've all got our baggage, right?”

“I guess.” Friend reached down to scratch the Grim's head.

“Least you've got a pal to keep you company up there, huh?” Susan smiled, holding out a hand for the Grim to sniff. Her fingers smelled like meats and syrup and eggs.

Friend nodded and smiled a little. “Yeah...it's been good having her around.”

Susan left and came back with a big plate full of food for Friend and a smaller one with bacon on it that she set on the floor for the Grim. It smelled very good, but she still didn't drop her guard until she saw that Friend was comfortable enough to eat. Now and then, he reached down to pet her and feed her little bits of pancake.

After a while, Susan came back with a piece of paper and set it on the table in front of Friend. “Take care of that whenever you're ready, no rush. And here--” She put another piece of paper with some numbers next to it. “You take that with you when you go.”

Friend stiffened again, as if he was suddenly afraid of Susan, though the Grim couldn't imagine why. She seemed nice, even if she smelled of cats.

“Oh, uh...” Friend said nervously. “I'm not really...I mean, I'm not really looking for anything like--”

“Ha! It's not my number, silly.” She slapped her hand down on the table. “Though play your cards right and you might get that too. Wink.” She added, lifting the lid that hung down over her bad eye. “No, this is just someone I know. Good for when you're going through some things.”

“What, you mean like a shrink?” Friend narrowed his eyes, still sounding on edge.

“I like to think of her as just someone to talk to.” Susan said. “She's pretty relaxed. You can just talk about sports or gossip with her if you want, she doesn't mind.”

Friend frowned, turning the paper over in his hands. “She doesn't give ya any of those dumb inkblot tests, does she?”

“Never given me any. Just gives some advice. Helps me work with my memory problems.”

“You have memory problems?” Friend asked.

“...I have memory problems?” Susan replied, staring straight out and sounding mystified. There was a pause, then she laughed. “Gotcha. Wink.”

“Heh...good one.” Friend smiled a little.

“I've got other tables to get to. But maybe I'll see you again sometime?” she reached down and scratched behind the Grim's ears. “You take good care of him, sweetheart.”

Friend watched Susan as she walked away, then he pulled some crumpled pieces of paper out of his coat and left them on the table. He stood and picked up the end of her leash.

“C'mon, girl.” he said. “Let's go home.”

Yes, home. That was a good idea. They stood and walked out of the food building and started back up the path. The Grim sensed that this outing had helped. Taken away some of the invisible weight he had been carrying. On the way home, he seemed to have more energy. Whether it was because of the food, or the exercise, or seeing other humans, the Grim wasn't sure. But something had helped.

When they got home, Friend didn't go in right away. He sat down on the porch and unclipped the leash. The Grim decided that she'd had enough of the collar for today, and shook it off again. Friend sat there, quietly staring out at the yard until the Grim nudged her head under his hand for pets. He stroked her fur and scratched down her back, and when she climbed into his lap he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close to him.

“Good dog.” he whispered. “You're such a good, good dog....”

The Grim's tail thumped against the porch steps. Yes, she agreed. She was a Good Dog. And she loved her Friend so very much.

 


End file.
